


The Best Laid Plans (AKA Johnstradelock Dates)

by torchwood221b



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:59:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torchwood221b/pseuds/torchwood221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kriskenshin asked me the following “pretty please could you write some JohnStradeLock date night fails? where there are 4 dates~ the first 3 dates fail because one of the boys do something to mess it up, each one in turn… and then one final date where it goes correct?” This is the result. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Laid Plans (AKA Johnstradelock Dates)

Date 1:

Sherlock had planned the first date; Angelo’s, very casual, very low key, very much three mates having dinner together if it turned out that he, John and Lestrade couldn’t actually count past two when it came to relationships. It had been a case free day so Sherlock had spent the better part of the morning sorting through cold cases at the yard.

“We’re still on for tonight aren’t we?” Lestrade asked around lunch time.

“Yes, Lestrade. Angelo’s at seven. Just come as you are no need for fancy dress.” Sherlock replied before turning back to the file he was looking at.

“Anything interesting?” the DI asked expecting Sherlock not to hear him as usual. If he had heard Sherlock’s reply of “maybe” he probably wouldn’t have been nearly as surprised when the consulting detective took off in the middle of dinner.

—-

Lestrade met them at 221B at quarter to seven; Mrs. Hudson greeted him at the door and gave him a knowing wink. The DI wasn’t the least bit shocked that she had figured out that dinner was actually a date but he blushed at the thought of the landlady encouraging it. Greg’s dates came downstairs a few seconds later; Sherlock had changed his shirt but John looked like he was still in his clothes from earlier in the day.

On the walk to Angelo’s John informed him that the white shirt Sherlock had been wearing earlier was sacrificed in the name of science, also known as, Sherlock getting corrosive chemicals on in when he wasn’t paying attention. As payback Sherlock told Greg all about John’s attempt to do the week’s shopping. This time the chip and pin machines were cooperative but only two were working and the line extended to the back of the store.

“John you have the worst luck,” the DI laughed as they headed inside the restaurant, “there’s never any lines when I do my shopping.”

Angelo greeted them and gave them the best table in the place, the one by the window where Sherlock and John had eaten while trying to find Jennifer Wilson’s killer. John and Greg sat opposite each other at the square table mainly because Sherlock had taken the seat so he could look at both of them for the length of the meal. It was his date after all.

They ordered a bottle of red wine to split between the three of them and made idle chat until it arrived with their appetizers. Greg and John both started with a simple garden salad with Italian dressing while Sherlock selected the caprese. Once the appetizers were finished John and Greg did most of the talking while Sherlock sat with his elbows on the table and his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Mere seconds after their entrees were set in front of them Sherlock finally spoke again.

“Oh, oh! That’s brilliant,” he declared pushing his chair away from the table. Before John or Greg could say a word he’d put on his coat and dashed out of the restaurant into the night air.

Greg and John shook their heads and started eating seeing as they certainly weren’t going to waste good food because Sherlock had run out on their date. Greg was the first to steal some of Sherlock’s ravioli but John followed suit soon after. Between the two of them they cleaned Sherlock’s plate as well as their own. When they were done they shared a bowl of pistachio gelato, paid the bill and walked back to 221B.

There was no sign of Sherlock when they arrived but since it was still early Greg stuck around in case Sherlock showed back up. John made them tea and sent Greg down to Mrs. Hudson’s for some biscuits where she knew better than to ask how things went. Two hours later Sherlock arrived back at the flat, looked at both men standing in his living room and said “I solved the case” before proceeding to explain the facts of the cold case he’d solved and how he managed to crack it. Halfway through his description he paused because John was glaring at him.

“What?’ Sherlock said irritated.

“You ran out on our date,” Greg snapped and Sherlock looked to John and asked “not good?”

“A bit,” John replied shaking his head.

“Can we try again?” Sherlock suggested hoping that his actions hadn’t ruined things permanently and to which he was met with the identical responses of “not tonight.”

___

Date 2:

A game of rock, paper, scissors between Greg and John determined who would be planning the second date; Greg won. He opted for a sushi place he’d discovered about a ten minute walk from the yard. John and Greg had also forbidden Sherlock from working on cases old or new for the three days prior to their date in an effort to ensure that nothing would distract him enough to cause another disappearing act. Greg hadn’t intended on working straight through until dinner but due to circumstances beyond his control he was still in the office at 6pm.

/Still in the office, was going to come ‘round to pick you up but probably best if you meet me here. GL/ He texted to both of them.

/No problem, see you soon. JW/ & /Obviously. SH/ were the replies.

Sherlock and John arrived at the yard with time to spare and the trio walked to the sushi place. They didn’t get the best seats in the house but they were pretty good or at least they were until Greg caught sight of his soon to be ex wife a few tables away. Being the mature adult that he was Greg merely attempted to ignore her and focus his attention on the two men he was here with.

Halfway through their meal she must have noticed him because she started encouraging her “date,” if that’s what you would call the barely legal man-child she was dining with, to feed her sushi with his chopsticks. Sushi she conveniently let drop into the very low cut dress she was wearing. When her “date” proceeded to eat the dropped piece of sushi off of her cleavage Greg had had enough.

“So this is my replacement,” Greg said after he stormed over to his ex’s table and sat down. “Did she tell you she was married? Divorce isn’t even finalized yet and she’s got you eating out of, I’d say palm of her hand but that’s not remotely near where she’s got you eating from is it?”

“You’re married?” her date stuttered while turning white as a ghost.

"Oh don’t worry mate, the divorce will be final in a few days then she’s all yours. Unless of course she’s still sleeping with that PE teacher, or the postman or the guy who runs the antique shop across from her flat and those are just the ones I know about.” Greg told him bluntly.

“Greg, please you’re making a scene” his ex replied visibly embarrassed.

“I’m making a scene! I’m fairly certain you were the one giggling like a bloody schoolgirl because sushi dropped on your cleavage,” Greg sneered at her, “not to mention the fact that you’re old enough to be your ‘date’s’ mother.”

“Mother? She said she was thirty,” her date interrupted.

“Thirty my arse, more like fifty,” Greg snorted as their table was told by the manager to take things outside.

John and Sherlock left money on the table and followed after Greg. They made it outside just in time to see his ex’s date take a swing at him which connected just above Greg’s right eye drawing blood.

“Ronnie, no!” she shouted as she tried to pull him away from Lestrade.

“She really didn’t tell you about me did she? You’ve just assaulted a police officer” Greg declared with a smirk and “Ronnie,” if that’s his real name, decided to try and tackle him to the ground.

Conveniently, several Yarders on their way home saw the scene Greg’s ex was making and stepped in to intervene. Given the incident inside the restaurant Lestrade agreed not to press charges but not until the kid and his ex spent several hours cooling off in lock up.

“Sorry I ruined our date,” the DI said guiltily in his office as John patched him up.

“You ignored her for as long as you could,” John consoled him.

“Although you did forget to tell Ronnie about her shagging that bank teller and the fed ex guy,” Sherlock commented.

“Don’t remind me,” Greg groaned, “I’m just glad to be getting rid of her. Let’s hope the third time’s the charm where our dates are concerned.”

_____

Date 3:

Despite everyone’s best efforts the third time wasn’t the charm. John had picked a Mexican restaurant forty minutes by cab from 221B in the hopes of avoiding anyone they knew. They’d even opted for an early dinner so they would be in and out while most people were still on their way home from work. Little did they know that this was about to turn into the worst date so far.

The restaurant was relatively empty when they arrived; there were a couple of people at the bar “getting an early start on happy hour” Sherlock commented idly. Once they were seated the waitress brought them their complementary chips and salsa which they munched on while they looked over the menu. They had placed their orders and were enjoying what was left of their chips when one of the women at the bar wandered over to their table.

“Johnny! What are you doing here?” the woman said pulling up a chair to join them.

“I’m having dinner Harry,” John replied. His sister already reeked of tequila and it was only five thirty.

“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” she asked, at least that’s what he thought she asked.

“Harry Watson these are my friends Greg and Sherlock. Greg, Sherlock, this is my sister Harry.” John said rolling his eyes, if Harry was drunk enough to be slurring her words it was going to be a long night.

“I see you’ve added another guest. What can I get for you miss?” the waitress asked and before John could object Harry had not only ordered an entrée but also a round of shots for the table.

When the shots were delivered John grabbed both his and Harry’s and downed them before she had even noticed they were there. Harry’s inattention was the result of her starting to tell Sherlock and Greg all about embarrassing moments from John’s childhood but that didn’t stop her from ordering another round of shots and a beer when the waitress delivered their entrees.

“John had an imaginary friend, a dragon, from some book. John used to take all of the gold colored objects in the house and hide them under his bed. When Mother found them he’d say the dragon did it!” Harry laughed and John shook his head. “You know he wet the bed till he was seven. I woke up once and found him standing on a chair at the kitchen sink trying to scrub the stains out of his bed sheets with soap.”

Sherlock and Greg tried to change the subject when they saw just how mortified John looked at that last anecdote but no matter what they tried to get Harry to talk about she’d manage to tie it back to a story about John.

Throughout their meal any alcoholic beverage Harry ordered for herself John confiscated and consumed before she could get her hands on it. When they’d gotten halfway through their meal John bolted from the table and out of the restaurant. Sherlock followed after him while Greg stayed with Harry and asked for the check.

“It was a valiant effort John but I think this date is officially over,” the consulting detective said when he found his blogger throwing up in the alley. He passed John the cloth napkin he had in his hand and a bottle of water he had “acquired” from inside. Greg joined them a few minutes later having paid the bill and gotten Harry a cab.

“I’m really sorry about all this,” John apologized on the cab ride back to the flat.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ve all managed to screw one up and apparently we’re all still interested. I’d say that’s a good sign.” Greg told him.

Even though they had reassured John that his ruining their date didn’t matter on the cab ride home they had to have the same discussion a second time when he was sober. After that discussion was finished they agreed that a fourth attempt at a first date was necessary only this time the planning of the date would be completely out of their hands. In deciding who would be entrusted to plan a date that cases, exes or drunken relations wouldn’t be able to interrupt they were left with only one option; Mycroft.

___

Date 4:

Sherlock, John and Greg knew they were in for it when several days prior to their fourth attempt at a first date Anthea delivered them new immaculately tailored three piece suits complete with ties, cufflinks, socks and new shoes. Mycroft refused to give them any details beyond the date and time a car would be picking them up from 221B to transport them to the location of their date. Sherlock deduced that since Mycroft deemed their newly acquired attire a necessary part of their date that wherever they were going it was very posh and very exclusive.

At seven pm on the appointed Saturday evening a limo arrived and the trio climbed in. Sherlock tried to deduce where they were heading but after a while it seemed like the limo driver was deliberately going in circles so he gave up and tried to enjoy the mystery like Greg and John seemed to be doing.

Forty five minutes later the limo came to a stop and they were given blindfolds by Anthea. She helped each man out of the limo and walked them inside a building, telling them each to wait until she retrieved those who remained. Sherlock, having stopped trying to guess where they were tried in earnest to figure it out not that they had arrived but there wasn’t much he could glean from the sound of their shoes on the tile floor.

Anthea led them into a room with swinging doors and a cooler temperature than the apparent corridor they had just been in. Sherlock listened to her move around the room; he heard the flick of a match and more movement before Anthea crossed to the other side of the room and lit another.

“Candles,” Sherlock said absently deducing out loud, “unscented so as not to spoil the smell of the food.”

“Very good Sherlock,” Anthea praised him sarcastically, “you can take off your blindfolds now” and with that she was gone.

Blindfolds off the three men took in the sight before them; they were in the morgue at Bart’s only it was completely lit by candles – some real, some LED. In place of one of the autopsy tables there was a small folding table with three chairs. The table was covered in a red and white checkered tablecloth and on top of that sat an extra large pizza box, some paper plates and a six pack of beer.

Greg and John laughed at the thought of having gotten all dressed up for a pizza date and quickly shed their jackets, undid their cufflinks and rolled up their sleeves leaving on their waistcoats and ties. Sherlock on the other hand rid himself of his jacket long enough to remove his waistcoat and tie before putting it back on. He quite liked the navy blue suit Mycroft had chosen for him but he liked the charcoal grey suit he had chosen for John and the black pinstriped suit he had chosen for Lestrade even more.

In the end the date was completely problem free although none of them would admit just how successful it was to either Mycroft (or Molly when they saw her the following Monday). But each man did seem to blush when they found themselves standing over the latest body on the room’s autopsy table.


End file.
